Symphony of Illumination
by bettercrazythanboring
Summary: A retelling of 7x12 from Robin's POV.


"Kids, have I ever told you the story of how I met your father?"

I imagined myself saying these words a decade or two from this moment. Possibly to two teenagers. Probably in Barney's apartment that I would have enlisted Lily's help in redecorating. Sitting across the miniature people (one brunette, one blonde, to keep the hair color diversity ratio) occupying the couch, with that stupid doll wearing a diaper that I would probably never in a million years make him give up staring at me from the corner.

I envisioned our life together in the long pause after the words "I'm pregnant" half-involuntarily escaped my mouth. I had locked myself in Marshall and Lily's new bathroom because I couldn't face the reality of them moving to the suburbs – half my friends no longer a few minutes away, living in the most exciting city on the planet? Besides, Lily was pregnant as well. Several months ahead of me, yes, but it would work out great if I became a mom as I could see everything Lily was doing wrong and change my strategy accordingly months in advance. My baby would kick her baby's ass.

The point was Lily and Marshall couldn't move to the suburbs; I wouldn't let them. Unfortunately there were two other bathrooms in the house, but I was too stubborn to come out once they pointed it out to me. Sitting on the toilet (closed, of course) with cheese on a plate Marshall had brought me (through the window, of course, as I wouldn't let anyone in), wondering if I was already supposed to be eating for two, I was startled by a knock on the window. It was Barney, the most unlikely father imaginable. The guy whose porn collection was probably one of the largest (and definitely best-lit) in the country. The guy who had extensive schemes and systems set up for getting laid with minimal to no effort. The guy whose heart I'd broken a few weeks earlier when we both wanted to get back together after a seeming one-night-stand relapse into our old relationship, but I stayed with my boyfriend Kevin while Barney broke up with his girlfriend Nora, who he had worked so hard at keeping around.

He told me that he had almost adopted a baby with Ted, his best friend (and also my ex-boyfriend), which was more than a little weird... and actually, sounded just like the kind of stupid, crazy thing they would do. I hadn't intended to say anything about my delicate state, but when Barney mused "Can you imagine me being someone's dad?" the words just slipped out because I _could._ I could imagine him being a dad and, as strange as that picture seemed, some part of me liked it.

I watched the shock turn to bewilderment on his face and was about to say something when he pulled a typical Barney and asked "Are you sure you're not just getting fat?" Being Canadian, slightly self-conscious and a little hormonal, I did what any woman in my situation would do – I punched him so hard he passed out. What, he had it coming.

When he came to a few minutes later, I'd calmed down and was ready to have a grown-up talk. As if that was ever possible with Barney.

The second he got up and took a close look at me, he said something that should be illegal to say to a woman.

"So you're pregnant. Looks like nobody told your boobs."

No jury (if they were women) would convict me of beating him to a pulp. But I had self-restraint. That was a satisfying thud, though, Barney hitting the floor a second time.

As was the sight of him gingerly touching his cheek when he came to again. The man was gorgeous and had the body of Adonis (one of the people on Jersey Shore, right?), but he could _not_ take a punch. And he was a wuss.

I was totally the Alpha dog in our relationship.

"Are you _sure_ you're...?"

"Well, no, not positive," I admitted, "I'm a week late, but I'm never late; it's a point of pride with me. I'm gonna see the doctor on Monday to find out for sure. Until then, not a word of this to anyone," I ordered, already wishing I hadn't said anything.

"Not even Kevin?" he asked, surprised, "I mean, it's probably his. I've spent years training my boys to swim the other way."

Of course.

"Kevin and I haven't had sex yet," I said, looking at the floor to avoid his stare. But I could feel his unspoken shock filling the room, "If I'm pregnant, you're the dad."

And that was good, because while I could maybe (_maybe_) take being pregnant, there was no way I would be able to live the next nine months without knowing who the father was. And Kevin and I had only known each other for a few short months anyway; a relationship that had started as him being my therapist couldn't possibly take a baby this early on. Barney and I had history. Even if he didn't take on the responsibilities of being a father (which I was sure he wouldn't), I knew he wouldn't abandon me... as a friend.

But then the craziest thing happened.

"That's... wonderful!"

"Huh?"

"I'm gonna be a daddy!" Barney exclaimed with undeniable joy on his face.

And then _I_ was the one who blacked out.

"Okay, one scotch for me, one ice tea on the rocks glass for mommie." Barney gave me the drink (which, I had to hand it to him, looked impressively like real alcohol) as he slipped into our usual booth at the bar.

I shushed him, terrified our friends would overhear even though they were nowhere to be seen.

Just as I was about to take a sip, he yanked the glass out of my hand, saying something about giving me the wrong one.

Damn it; it _was_ real alcohol. Having it so close was so tempting, so mouthwatering... I couldn't bear it; I took the glass back from Barney, determined to have at least one sip, but he wouldn't let me and after putting up a fuss, I let him have it.

How on earth would I stay sober for nine months?

"Barney, why are you so happy about this?"

"Because this is perfect. I wanna be a dad!" he said with a smile on his face.

"This is not good news. I have a boyfriend," I reminded him.

"Yeah, but if Kevin weren't around..."

"It doesn't matter! I don't want kids. I've _never_ wanted kids and never in a million years _will_ I ever want kids. I can't have a baby," I tried to get it through his thick, strangely pro-baby skull. The whole reason Ted and I had originally broken up was because of our different views on having a family. Nothing had changed since then. Except that one little cute sock from a few years ago that I was determined to not think about.

I could tell he was about to say something, maybe try to change my mind (maybe actually succeed; somehow he aaaaaaalways got the yes), maybe reconsider his stance, but as these things always go, at that precise moment our friends showed up with their own problems, stories and, most importantly, ears, so the conversation had to be postponed.

Immersed into my own thoughts, I only caught bits and pieces of the chatter surrounding me – something about giant socks, "We B Babies" and Christmas displays – but when I almost puked and everyone noticed, I had to dig through my brain for the last thing that was said for an explanation.

"It's just... I hate Manheim Steamroller. Isn't there anyone else you could use?"

I was seventy percent sure what I had just said related somehow to the Christmas decorations.

"Come on, who am I gonna use if not the Steamroller?" Marshall asked.

"I don't know, AC/DC?"

"AC/DC? Robin, do you have any idea why they call them Manheim Steamroller? It's because they rock so hard steam comes out of your brain as it melts."

Yeah, okay. Americans were oddly protective of their Christmas music.

"So I have to go to We B Babies by myself?" Lily interjected.

"Robin and I will go with you!" Barney offered, much to my dismay.

I was gonna kill the bastard.

Later that afternoon, Barney and I were standing in the middle of a kid-infested store that overdosed on cuteness.

"Barney, what are we doing here?"

"I wanna show you that having a kid is nothing to be afraid of."

Barney, of all people, was saying that.

The sight of a sleep-deprived energy-less mother of four was frightening, though I tried to hide it by acting cocky and mocking. This would not turn out well, I was sure.

"Okay, first on the list: nipple butter," Lily started looking around for it, "as you breastfeed, your nipples stretch out like four inches and get all dry and cracked. The nipple butter stops the bleeding," she explained.

Oh. Perfect.

As soon as she was off hunting it down, I grabbed Barney by the jacket and repeated the horror story with a murderous tone.

"Yes, but while the baby's not on your bleeding nips, look what she'll be wearing!" He picked up a tiny bedazzled dress with a smile on his face, oblivious as only he could be. Did he not realize the hard parts of being a parent? The role he was preparing for was that of an uncle, not a father.

Perhaps being around Lily would be less depressing.

"Vaginal numbing spray," she showed me a bottle, "apparently after childbirth your hoo-hah looks like Rocky Balboa's face."

Or maybe not.

The images of things Lily said raced through my mind, fast and terrifying, and when Barney finally rejoined us, I was ready to lose it.

_"__I can't have a baby!"_ I screamed, but, surprisingly, he beat me to it.

I had no idea what could have changed his mind so drastically in a matter of minutes, but whatever it was, I was grateful for it. We weren't ready to be parents. No, we couldn't _be_ parents. Ever.

The next day we were at the OBGYN, a woman Lily had recommended me. I hoped doctor-patient confidentiality applied to pregnancies as well.

"Well, Mrs. Scherbatsky, I hope and your husband-"

"He's not by husband," I interrupted her.

"Oh, I'm so sorry. Your boyfriend, then," she rubbed my shoulder as if to say "he hasn't proposed yet? Oh, you poor thing. Keep waiting", which irritated me a little. I did not want to get married, neither did he and we weren't even together. Why did everyone expect us to want those things?

"He's not my boyfriend," I clarified.

She uttered a curse in Russian.

"I will just cut to the chase."

"Wait," this time Barney interrupted her and put his phone on the counter, ready for... something.

"You are not pregnant," the doctor announced.

"Yeah!"

Barney and I burst out dancing, a cheerful melody blasting from Barney's phone. Oh, I was so relieved I could have kissed him.

But I didn't. I had a boyfriend and now that there was no evidence of our one night stand mistake, I felt like Kevin and I could possibly have a future. There was a reason I'd chosen him over Barney, after all.

Barney and I were done.

Later that week, still giddy from my non-pregnancy, I was indulging myself in everything pregnant women were not supposed to have – alcohol, cigars, sushi, etc. - while watching "Teenage Mommies" when I got a call to come back in.

The doctor told me they'd run some more tests and that the following would be hard to hear. At first, I thought it was because she was talking medical gibberish and I literally could not understand a word she was saying, but apparently the jist of it was... that I couldn't have a baby. Ever.

My body was broken.

"Uh... great," I said, trying to make sense of this strange emotion that overcame me, "I mean, not great, but... I've never wanted kids, so... if it has to happen to someone..."

This was a good thing. Right?

I would never feel this way again – scared about an accidental pregnancy by a guy who was not my loving boyfriend. There would be no pregnancies... no evidence. Not that it gave me a free pass for cheating, obviously. And not that many guys would want a broken girl. Not that I wasn't broken inside. And not that I hadn't always been adamant about not wanting kids. But some, like Ted, hoped that maybe, eventually, I'd change my mind. If that possibility was gone, where did that leave me?

"Robin, is there anyone you can talk to about this?" the doctor asked, "Perhaps a close friend."

No, I didn't. I knew exactly how my four best friends would react. And none of it would be helping.

Ted would go into overdrive, trying to make me feel better. Comfort food, presents, shoulder rub, the whole bit. Instead of relaxing, I would most likely snap.

Lily, in her delicate state, would just implode, ranting about how she's been going on and on about babies and was such a bad friend until I'd wind up comforting _her._

Marshall, in his lawyer way, would ask me a bunch of "other opportunities" questions I didn't know the answers to and didn't want to talk about.

Barney, on the other hand, would bend over backwards trying to make me laugh. And when that didn't work, he would actually bend over backwards, possibly breaking bones. He had always had a flare for the dramatic.

"Hey, Robin, you okay? You look upset," Ted asked at the bar later that day.

I did not want to talk about it, not yet, so I spat out the first lie that popped into my head.

"I just found out I can never be a pole vaulter for the Canadian Olympic team. I'm too tall or something."

And the funny thing was that even though pole vaulting was not a big thing... at all, all of my friends had exactly the reactions I had imagined. Only with much less of a cause so they were acting just that much more ridiculous.

I had trouble deciding if I had the best friends ever or if it was way past the time I should have gotten new ones.

And there we were, back at We B Babies, helping Lily once more. Now that I knew I would never shop here for myself, everything looked so much cuter, so much more appealing, so much better. Like graduation goggles, except, you know, baby goggles.

"Listen, I know things have been kinda weird between you and me these past couple of weeks, so I just want to say I'm... glad we're back to where we started," Barney said after he pulled me aside.

"Yeah," I agreed, surprised at how much I meant it.

"Friends with benefits."

"No."

"Just like always."

"We've never been that, just friends."

"With benefits, we'll talk about it later."

And somehow Barney being Barney cheered me up a little.

"Look at all these babies," he continued, "Isn't it crazy how now that we're not having one, babies are cute again? Look at that one!"

"I'm good," I pointedly stared away.

"No, I'm serious, look!" he turned me towards the most adorable toddler in America.

"Damn it, that thing is cute as crap. Screw you, baby!" I whispered so that neither Barney nor the mother would hear. And then there was another baby in the corner. And another one walking out the door. Babies, babies everywhere. God, why did this have to happen to me?

I needed to get out of there desperately, but I had to be there for Lily. Why did I need friends in the first place. I should be able to cry whenever I wanted.

"Robin, are you okay?"

Those words were beginning to be the most annoying in the English language.

"Yeah, I guess this pole vaulting thing is finally hitting me."

"I don't get it , Robin, did you really want to be a pole vaulter?" Lily asked, confused.

"No, no, I was always adamantly against having a... pole vaulting career. Even though it's what most women want."

"Most women want to be a pole vaulter?"

"In Canada," I said, for once thankful my friends were so keen on poking fun at my home country even though most of the stuff they laughed about wasn't even accurate, "It's very big up there. You know, it's meet a nice guy, get married, vault some poles... But I never wanted that. Of course, it's one thing not to want something, it's another to be told you can't have it," I mused, "I guess it's just nice knowing that you could someday do it if you changed your mind, but now all of a sudden that door is closed."

"What about the one where you ski and shoot at the same time? That seems like something you'd be good at," Lily offered, completely missing the point I was admittedly trying to avoid making.

"Oh my God, Robin, look at this," Ted interrupted, holding some sort of baby cloth with the Canadian leaf on it, "Oh Can-adorable, am I right?"

Yes, yes it was. The most beautiful, precious garment I'd ever seen even though it was very simple (and probably made in China). And my offspring would never wear it. I would never have to wash out puke stains from the white fabric or be able to make a nationality statement with just a shirt. And it was so adorable.

It finally got to be too much, so I muttered "Excuse me" and left, bursting into tears the moment my friends were out of sight.

A few days later I was minding my own business in the kitchen when Ted, my (sometimes inconvenient) roommate, came up to me and handed me something.

"An airplane ticket to Cleveland?"

"I know it's not Canada, but it starts with a C and it's cold as balls. So get packed; you're coming home with me for Christmas!"

"Yeah, nice try, dude. I wouldn't go to Cleveland for a hundred and twenty-five million dollars paid over six years," I snickered.

"Still? Still with the LeBron jokes? Where's that ring, huh? Where's that ring you're supposed to have by now?" he shot back, "I thought you were bummed about not going home for Christmas."

"Are you kidding?" I nearly snorted again, "I love New York at Christmas. It's so quiet and peaceful... I've got my eggnog to keep me company."

"Robin, what's wrong?"

God, I wished everyone would stop asking that.

"Nothing," I lied. Poorly.

"Just tell me!"

"Why do you need to know so bad?"

"So I can cheer you up!"

"It's not your job to cheer me up!"

"Yes, it is! Cheering you up is my job!"

"Well, then you're fired."

"You can't fire me, I'm Union, bitch," he tried to lure out a smile again.

"It's not your job to cheer me up," I persisted.

"Yes, it is."

"No, it's not!"

"Yes, it is!"

"No, it's _not_!" I screamed, wishing he'd just leave me alone. I needed to wallow in peace. "Merry Christmas, Ted," I said as I left the apartment with my eggnog.

The air was cold and bit on my nose (ah, just like home), but it did a rather nice job of clearing my head. I appreciated that Ted wanted to cheer me up, but honestly, it wasn't necessary. So I couldn't have kids. Big deal. This way there was no one to hold me back in life. No one to keep me from traveling where I wanted to travel, no one getting in the way of my career. I saw a vision of those two teenagers on Barney's couch again and finally admitted what I'd been trying to convince myself was not true over the last few weeks: I was glad they weren't real. Really glad. I'd been feeling like I _should_ be broken up over it, not that I _was._ But I'd always known I wasn't like other women. This... just made it easier. I was never going to have kids anyway. I'd decided that a long time ago. Now I wouldn't have to worry about it ever again.

So I sat on the bench in Central Park, drank my eggnog and wondered where else life would take me. And whether I should tell anyone what I'd just gone through.

When the time to go back home finally came, I slowly walked back, hoping Ted wouldn't be there. I thought couldn't face him just yet. But as I came through the door and realized that my switching the light on did not switch the light on at all, starting an elaborate twinkling light show set to "Highway to Hell" instead, I realized that I gave our relationship less credit than it deserved.

"Yes, it is," he said, coming out from behind me, "You don't want to tell me what's wrong, fine. I don't need to know. But you can never stop me from trying to cheer you up. It's a fact of life. You're just gonna have to deal with it."

"Ted, I..."

"Hold on, this is the best part," he turned me back to the show.

A few moments later I finally broke down, started crying and sought comfort in his arms. This had been an exhausting week and even though I'd kept mute, they all knew I wasn't well. I really did have the best friends ever, I realized, standing in the dark living room amidst a symphony of illumination, in the loving arms of one of my ex-boyfriends and seeing the face of another ex-boyfriend behind my eyelids, while my boyfriend was out of my mind completely.


End file.
